“Anything jump off the page?” T.J. asked.
Dupree studied the chart. “As if we needed more reason to believe that Hansen was in the thick of things, she’s in some way connected to everyone except Tesler. And Tesler’s only connected to Cassano.”
“I think that in the morning, when we show up unannounced at Horizon and bushwhack Dr. Mason, Michael Adelman, and Dominic Gallo, this whole investigation is going to come together.”
“I agree,” Dupree said. “But if we don’t track down Hansen…”
T.J. nodded. “Yep. We’re kind of screwed.”
Dupree stood up and rocked her head from side to side and she could hear her neck crack.
“A little tension there, Amaris?” T.J. asked “You have no idea.”
“Sit back down. I’ll bet I can help.”
“Sure you can.”
“Seriously, I’ve won awards for my chair massages. I give a one-hundred percent money back guarantee.”
After what Brenda had observed and the face touching incident, Dupree really felt self-conscious. “I’ll take a rain check.”
“Please let me give it a try.”
Reluctantly, she gave in. “Okay, you’ve got five minutes.”
He got to work immediately.
“Your muscles are twisted into knots, so for me to loosen them up, I really have to crank on you. Tell me if this is too much for you to handle.”
He squeezed the top of her shoulders with his fingers and palms. And in a circular motion, he worked his thumbs deep into the taut muscles.
Dupree moaned as his hands worked tirelessly and she could feel the muscles begin to relax. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given her a massage.
“Am I doing okay?” T.J. asked.
“More than okay.”
He continued for another few minutes and Dupree felt so relaxed her head dropped forward and she nearly fell asleep.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to fall on the floor and break my neck.”
“Feel any better?”
“One thousand percent better. I think you missed your calling.” Dupree stood up and felt a little wobbly.
“You all right?” T.J. asked.
“I’m fine. I just need to get home, take a warm bath, and crash.”
“Sure you’re okay to drive?” T.J. asked, a look of concern in his dark brown eyes. “I’d be happy to drop you off at your place and swing by in the morning.”
“That’s sweet of you. Really. But I can manage.” Dupree suspected that T.J.’s offer represented more than a ride home. He’d never admit it, but he wanted to assume the role as her bodyguard.
“Listen to me, Amaris. I need to be sure that you make it home safely. I know you’re a big girl and you can take care of yourself, but—”
“I’ll be okay. Trust me.”
“What time do you want to meet in the morning?” T.J. asked.
“You okay with eight a.m.?”
“Works for me.”
“We can check with Brenda first thing,” Dupree said, “update the captain on what’s going on, and then head over to Horizon. That should be interesting.”
“And maybe if we’re lucky, somebody will spot Hansen.”
“Let’s hope.”
Dupree turned to leave, but T.J. stopped her.
“No heroics. Call me if you need anything.”
“Even if I want a quart of Ben & Jerry’s at three a.m.?”
“Only if you share.”
When Dupree turned the key in the door to her apartment, she felt a dull ache in her stomach.
Cat stew.
She opened the door slowly, holding her breath, hoping that her little buddies would greet her. True to their nature, Ben and Alex were waiting impatiently, each vehemently protesting her long absence. She’d never been so happy to hear them complain. The chorus of meows wouldn’t stop. Dupree glanced at their food bowls and both were licked clean.
“I’m so sorry, kitties. I guess I haven’t been a good mommy, have I?” Dupree dropped her handbag on the kitchen table, and gave both cats a generous helping of Fancy Feast—their favorite—then gave them fresh water.
“My turn,” she said as she set a wineglass on the counter. She knew better than to drink on an empty stomach, but she wasn’t at all hungry, which was a rare event.
“Red or white?” She preferred red wine, particularly Malbec, but tonight just seemed like a Chardonnay kind of evening. Mentally drained, she poured a generous glass, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed into her favorite La-Z-Boy recliner. She was just about to take a sip of the ice cold wine, when she heard her cell ring.
She struggled to get up, reached for her handbag, and found her phone. She looked at the display and saw that it was T.J.’s number.
“Hey partner,” Dupree said softly. “Are you calling to tell me we collared Hansen?”
“No such luck,” T.J. said. “Just checking in to be sure you made it home.”
“That’s kind of you.” She tasted the wine. “I’m safe and sound.” They’d been partners for over six months and this was the first time T.J. had ever called to check on her. Of course, in the time they’d worked together, this was also the first time she’d gotten threatening letters. “I wonder why Hansen hasn’t come home. Think Ralph tipped her off?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” T.J. said. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Everything’s cool.”
“Great,” T.J. said. “Enjoy the rest of your evening—whatever’s left of it. I’ll see you on the flip side.”
“Get a good night’s sleep,” Dupree warned. “Tomorrow’s going to be a tough day.”
“Sleep well.”
“One more thing,” Dupree said. “I have a hankering for some Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy ice cream. So don’t be surprised if I call you in the middle of the night.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Dupree finished the wine and considered having another, but thought it unwise. She couldn’t afford to be off her mark tomorrow. It was destined to be a monumental day. Confronting Mason, Adelman, and Gallo would pose many challenges. The caliber of men she’d be dealing with wasn’t like interrogating Cassano or Tesler. These men, she suspected, could not easily be intimidated. She had to be certain that all her facts and figures were clear in her mind. In light of everything T.J. and she had documented in the case file so far, Dupree felt certain that both Adelman and Gallo—at the least—had conspired to murder Dr. Crawford. But her gut told her that Mason wasn’t squeaky-clean.
What troubled her most was Hansen. Sure, there was plenty of circumstantial evidence, lots of incriminating facts. An ominous past. But were they compelling enough to convince the DA to prosecute her for conspiracy to commit murder? And would a murder charge hold up before a grand jury? Until they located Hansen and brought her in for questioning, any conclusions that Dupree might make were purely speculative.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Dupree’s sleepless night had taken its toll. Visions of the two mysterious envelopes she’d received dominated her thoughts. Sending her a note about cat stew was one thing. But attempting to injure or even kill her with a toxic drug was quite another. In all her years in law enforcement, she’d never encountered such a situation and was having a difficult time dealing with it.
When Dupree entered the precinct, she wanted to turn around, go back to her car, recline the driver’s seat, and take a nap. This, of course, was not possible. Still, she thought about it. Walking towards her desk, she spotted Mark Wells, soon-to-be-retired homicide detective, talking to T.J.